


Dear Friend

by hydrogendisco



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Mental Instability, No Sex, Sibling Incest, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-06 17:11:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydrogendisco/pseuds/hydrogendisco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I got the idea for this from Perks Of Being A Wallflower and it seemed to make a good idea. More of a short story than a fan fiction I guess...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dear Friend,

My parents made me go and see a therapist today. They insist there’s something wrong; I’ve told them time and time again that there isn’t. I didn’t speak on the way there at all, I just frowned out of the window while watching the dangerous streets of town spin past us. Gerard came with me, which was nice I guess. He didn’t say anything to Mum but she didn’t question when he stepped inside the car. I smiled at him. He smiled back.

I don’t know what anyone expected to happen when we arrived at the office. It was a tall grey building, with shining chrome and beige decor. The receptionist smiled at me sympathetically, like I was some special patient. Gerard made a face at me and I chuckled a little. Mum shot me a threatening look but I pretended I didn’t  
take any notice. 

‘Come on Mikes, this way.’ Mum called as I lagged behind a little. We paced down an unpromisingly narrow corridor, with material lining the walls. It reminded me a little of one of those stopover motels that you find on the edge of motorways. 

‘You nervous?’ Gerard spoke in a hushed tone to me, scuffing his trainers on the overly soft carpet. 

‘I guess.’ I shrugged. I didn’t know why I was there really, no one would tell me either. When we got into the office a tall, extremely bald man greeted us. He shook Mum’s hand, nodded a little at me, then went to sit behind a black leather desk.

His eyes were worringly wide, with blue iris’ which looked enhanced. His lips were small as was his nose. A suit hung limply off his shoulders, as if he’d lost a lot of weight within a short amount of time. I figured this might be the case considering the size of his eyes. Gerard warned me once what drugs do to you, and the man who looked at me like I was a kid certainly looked like he was under their influence. 

I sat on a black leather armchair, which made your body slide around unnaturally. My mother stood behind me like some kind of protecter. Gerard leaned against one of the walls casually, his eyes silently judging the therapist. I looked up from under my glasses. The whole situation was stupidly stressful, which I thought was the opposite of what a therapy session was supposed to be. 

‘So Michael...’ He leaned forward on his elbows. I didn’t protest at the use of my full name, for fear that it would mean I was mental or something. It’s crazy how on edge those kind of places make you feel. ‘how do you feel?’ 

I thought of a thousand different answers to that. I was confused. I was tired. I was sick of school. I felt sick. My head hurt. 

‘Good.’ I mumbled. I wasn’t the most social person, in or out of school. I had one friend at school, Ray, but we never spoke. There was more of a silent bond between the two of us, which no one understood. I never spoke to my family either. I occasionally passed words with Gerard, but we again had more of a quiet relationship. We were brothers so of course we spoke. 

The therapist asked me a ton of stuff which I didn’t answer truthfully. Tons of crap about how long I’ve been so isolated. I personally didn’t think I was isolated but apparently that’s some special word for unsociable. The hardest question to answer was how I felt about my parents, especially with my Mum standing above me. She whispered in my ear something about being honest but I didn’t care enough to listen. I wanted to get out of there, quickly. 

So we rushed through a ton of questions which I could tell he knew I wasn’t answering truthfully. A couple of times Gerard would sigh or chuckle from the corner of the spacious room and I’d smile a little. Those were the times when the gangly question-asking man would narrow his eyes in disapproval. 

When we left again, feeling so unfulfilled and slightly disappointed by the whole thing, my Mum spoke in a constant stream of nothing. She chatted about anything she could think of, leaving me pretty much silent for the whole journey. I asked her at the end, when she’d just muted the engine of the roaring car about why she took me there. Her whole body froze when I said that. I blinked at her from under my thick-rimmed glasses, but that didn’t seem to affect her. 

She just tutted really loudly and got out of the car. I refused to speak to her for the rest of the evening. I just feel as if I’m being singled out, someone special from everyone else. Ray text me late at night, but I just ignored him and carried on listening to music. Music’s all that helps me really, it’s like a friend I didn’t know I have.  
Gerard knocked on my door as well, and he showed me a drawing. We spoke about what it meant then went to bed. It’s weird how just being spoken to like a normal person can have such a big impact on your mood. He treats me like he treats anyone else. Nothing special. That’s all I want to be I guess.

Love Always,  
Mikey.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second part. It does get more interesting I promise!

Dear Friend,  
School is getting worse again. Ray wasn’t in yesterday, or today for the matter. He texted me about some course he’s been doing but I don’t remember what it was about. People kept shouting at me through the corridors, stuff about how I was mental. I ignored it. I know they’re lying. 

Mum picked me up from school, which caused more leery comments which I forced my mind to block out. I wanted to get away from everything right then, you know when you want to just disappear? Again she made some kind of inane conversation about the weather. I didn’t join in, I prefer to close myself off when with my parents. It’s just so much easier to explain my feelings in my own mind. I keep thinking of why they keep telling me there’s something wrong when there’s clearly not. We got stuck in traffic on the way home, which I hated so much. 

She told me that we had another date with the therapist while we were at yet another queue of average cars going to average places. I clenched my fist a little. I still don’t know why she inists I go. Apparently I’m ‘not normal’ but I don’t understand why not. I kept asking her, but she kept shaking her head and smiling sympathetically. 

I’m starting to believe there may be something wrong. Am I missing something that everyone else can see? Maybe there’s something so obviously wrong with me that it’s grown to be natural to me. I stormed into my room as soon as I got in, playing my music dramatically loudly so no one would bother me. I heard Mum shouting in the kitchen, probably at Gerard for not tidying up his art crap. She usually doesn’t stress about what he does, though she’s in a particulaly pedantic mood these days.   
I wanted to scream. I didn’t though, I just sat alone on the floor of my tiny room, trying to shut up everything that was happening. Maybe it runs in the family, Gerard went through almost the same thing as me. Only he admitted there was something wrong. He used to be totally wild, he’d go out drinking for one night and not return for three days. Mum would never get angry though, and it was him who turned himself in to the therapist. He’s better now, though we rarely get a chance to speak.

We went to the therapist with the huge eyes and tiny lips. The room with the opressing black furniture and polished leather. The judging eyes which seemed to know more about you than you did. I let myself be steered into the room, only alone this time. I still kept my eyes on the ground while he spoke. He asked more personal questions this time, more about my thoughts than anything else;

‘What have you been thinking since we last spoke?’ He smiled encouragingly, but I didn’t need any motivation. I wanted to tell him how fucking confused I was, so I guess I did.  
‘Confused. Why am I here? What the fuck is wrong with me? Why does everyone treat me like I’m some kind of freak?’ I flicked my eyes up to meet his and saw that pathetic look of sympathy everyone seemed to give me these days. He sighed then carried on, 

‘You’re here because your family care about you. You’re not a freak Michael I swear,’

‘It’s Mikey.’ I retaliated. He made me feel slightly ill. I could tell he was lying. I was there because there was something wrong. 

I didn’t tell my parents anything about the session. I turned down dinner for the second day in a row, not feeling able to stomach anything. I began to go to my room, but spun on my heel and descended the flight of stairs which led to my brother’s basement-bedroom. I knocked on the black door, and he told me to go in. I obliged and stepped into the room. It was very bare, like you would find a spare room in any other house. He saw how bad I was feeling and stopped whatever he was doing to come over to me. 

‘How was therapy?’ He said, his hazel eyes glistening slightly in the light from the corridor. I shut the door and sat on the squeaky single bed. I dug my hands into my forehead, trying to put my thoughts into words for him. 

‘Shit. What the fuck is wrong with me Gee?’ I looked at him, trying not to let my desperation show in my eyes. He bit his lip a little, nodding so his black hair flopped across his pale cheeks. 

‘It’s not that easy to explain Mikes. I’m sorry, Mum and Dad both think that maybe you have some kind of disorder. But don’t worry, you’ll get better.’ He smiled a tiny smile. It made my stomach lurch. That was the first time in ages that someone smiled at me normally, like they’d smile at anything else. I wanted to cry so hard then. A disorder? That means that I really am crazy. 

I think Mum thought that about Gerard though, and he’s better than ever these days. I hope he’ll help me recover like he did because I can’t stand the concerned looks anymore. 

Love Always  
Mikey.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third part; feedback is accepted as it helps me know what to do better next time...

Dear Friend,   
Things have gotten worse again. I’ve been taken out of school, much to the delight of most of the students. Ray said he’d come round some days and tell me what’s been happening, which is a nice touch I guess. Mum caught me talking to Gerard late at night and apparently that was the final straw. She called the school and told me due to ‘my mental state’ that I would be pulled from school. I don’t even know why, and I think that’s annoying me more than anything. 

I went to the therapist (who’s name I’ve found out is Casper) again this morning. He’s not as bad as I first made out. He’s a good listener and although he may be not doing his job well, it’s nice to know I can shout at someone. I told him that my parents think I have a mental disorder, and he replied with;

‘I think schizophrenia may be an option. Your parents inform me that you’ve been skipping meals?’

‘I don’t get hungry.’ I replied, mumbling. He scribbled something down in a yellow note pad which made me feel even sicker. Something is wrong inside me and I don’t know what it is. I felt myself begin to breathe heavily and I lost track of what Casper was saying altogether and focused on making my lungs work.

He stopped talking when he noticed that I was gasping for air, but I couldn’t work out whether he left the room or just moved. Everything kept focusing in and out, making me close my eyes. I could hear Gerard speaking, maybe even shouting, to me. He came with us because he blamed himself for everything. I tried to convince him otherwise but he wouldn’t listen. 

I don’t know what happened after that, but I woke up in an unfamiliar room. The only thing I recognized was the smell of the building that held Casper and many other therapists. The room was mostly white, with some blue aspects dotted around. It reminded me of a slightly lower key hospital unit. I think it probably was.  
I was lying on a white bed in one corner of the room, one of my arms pressed against the white windowless wall. There were no windows anywhere, the only light source being a white bulb with a white lampshade. I was shocked to find Gerard sitting on the end of the bed, smiling at me the smile which makes me feel ok again.

‘What happened..?’ I asked trying to not sound too ashamed of my vulnerability,

‘You had a panic attack and passed out. You feeling ok?’ He stood up so he could look down on me. I pulled myself to a sitting position which hurt my back more than it should have. 

‘Why am I really here Gerard?’ I asked him. I trusted him to tell me the truth. 

‘Ask someone who knows about this kind of stuff Mikes, I don’t know.’ I knew that he did know but was just scared to tell me the truth. 

‘Just fucking tell me Gee.’ I was done with treading around all the secrets which seemed to revolve around my sanity. Mum walked in then, gasping as she saw I had company. I shut up so she could swan around me like all good Mothers’ should. Well I shut up until I lost it with her,

‘Look Mum, can you just tell me what the fuck is wrong with me?’ I shouted at her. She tutted at my use of language but I glared at her to show I meant every word. I watched as her eyes filled with tears. I watched as she ran out of the room, not letting me see her cry.

Gerard stayed with me after she left and we talked about stupid little things. He told me how he was working on a comic book, which actually sounds really interesting. I’m trying to ignore everything that has happened but it keeps creeping on me like a ghost. 

My brother fell asleep in the white room before me, his body curled up at the end of the bed. He is so comforting to have there, even if he isn’t speaking. He carries an aura of calmness with him which seems to banish all my problems for a while. I just hope I can find out some answers about what is wrong with me.

Love Always,   
Mikey.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this guys :)

Dear Friend,

I don’t know how long this letter will be. I don’t know how much strength I have in me to keep on moving the pen. Every inch of my body is screaming at my mind and my mind is screaming back. I don’t think I’m in control but I’ll try my best to explain. 

I woke up with no awareness of the time in the white room again. Gerard was awake, doodling on a bit of paper he’d found. I watched him for a couple of minutes, staring as his nimble fingers flew around the scrappy material. A doctor walked on then, someone I’d never seen before. He held himself very proudly as he walked, and stood with his hands behind his back in the middle of the square room.

‘Mikey we need to talk.’ He spoke with a manner of severity. I nodded, taking my eyes of Gerard for a moment and sitting up. My brother took one glance at the tall man and placed the paper and pencil in his pocket quietly. ‘You have a brother don’t you Mikey?’

I nodded again, wondering why he asked such a question when he was in the room with us. What did Gerard have to do with my sanity anyway? 

‘What’s his name?’ The doctor said, sitting down on a blue plastic chair beside my bed. 

‘Gerard Arthur Way...’ I almost laughed. It seemed so simple. 

‘How old is Gerard?’ I got angry when he asked this,

‘Why don’t you ask him?!’ I shook my head in despair before answering, ‘18.’

‘Do you get on with him?’

‘Yeah. We talk a lot and he makes me feel better.’ Gerard gave me a reassuring smile from where he was sat.

‘Right.’ The doctor adjusted himself so that he was staring straight at me with piercing green eyes, ‘This isn’t going to be easy for you to understand Mikey...’ He looked down and then back up again, ‘Gerard Arthur Way doesn’t exist.’ 

I frowned at him. Laughing a little actually, what was this sick joke? I asked him what he meant and he continued, swallowing every couple of sentences,

‘You’ve created a character in your brain Mikey. This character, Gerard, has become so powerful in your mind that you see him now. He’s not real. You don’t have a brother Mikey, you’re an only child. You invented Gerard Arthur Way to stop you feeling so lonely.’ 

I don’t remember a lot after he said that. I remember screaming something to Gerard, trying to get him to speak to the doctor and prove my sanity. I remember screaming at the doctor to shut up, I remember trying to hit him and failing. I remember some men in blue suits holding my arms to stop me struggling. Now I’m home. I’m home home, in my small room with it’s oppressing blue walls. 

I can’t stomach it. Gerard is real. Of course he is, I know that, Mum knows that. I’m shaking so hard, mainly with anger. How dare he say that to me. Gerard is real. I could never create a character in my mind, I’m not creative enough. 

Gerard is real. I keep telling myself this over and over. I want him to come and hold me and tell me I’ll be ok but he went to his room I think. I couldn’t possibly create someone in my head, could I? That’s stupid. He spoke to me. He spoke to my parents. Why don’t they stand up for me now? 

I can’t do this. I can’t stand this house anymore. I can’t stand having to have strange men in baggy suits come and speak to me about my mind. I can’t stand being treated like a freak. I can’t stand being told the one person in my life who actually gives a damn about my feelings isn’t real. I can’t do it.

Love Always,

Mikey.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter of this fic. I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Any feedback is greatly appreciated, thanks you guys!

Dear Mikey’s friend,

Hello. I don’t know your name, or anything about you for that matter. I don’t know what gender you are, where you live or your age. But hello. I’m Mikey’s mother. He’s probably mentioned me before, in one of these letters. 

I’m writing to you today because I’m afraid Mikey can’t, in fact Mikey won’t be able to for a while. Last night I found Mikey in his room, surrounded by broken glass. His wrists were covered in blood and it took me a moment to realise what had happened. I knew he wouldn’t cope very well with the news, but I never thought he’d try and take his own life. 

Fortunately he’s still with us. He’s in hospital now, unconscious. I just popped home to gather some clothes for him, and saw the last letter you received unposted on his floor. I’m posting this one a day afterwards, so you’ll have time to read them both.

Gerard Arthur Way isn’t real. Mikey has been isolated for a long time, and Gerard became a friend to him when he needed him. I don’t know when Mikey started to imagine him, but it’s over now. 

Thank you for being there as a better listener than I have been, I just wish I knew who you were. I’m afraid Mikey won’t be writing for a while, due to his condition. Thank you.

Jane Way.

*

Dear Sir/Madam,

Michael James Way passed away on the 17th June 1999 after unhooking his own oxygen monitor from his lungs. His funeral will be held on the 21st June 1999 for you to attend. We are very sorry for your loss.

Bandson’s Funeral Directory.


End file.
